The Best of You
by sabbe
Summary: Hermione was no stranger to overcoming adversity. She was a war hero, an advocate for the better treatment of magical creatures, and last week she finally learned how to bake chocolate torte without burning it to a crisp. However, she wasn't invincible. Everyone had their own Achilles' heel and hers was Draco Malfoy.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: All HP characters and anything related to Harry Potter series belong to J.K. Rowling. I borrowed the title from a Foo Fighter's song. Sorry, I deleted the original because I wanted to edit it to make it more readable thus enjoyable.**

Hermione was no stranger to overcoming adversity. She was a war hero, an advocate for the better treatment of magical creatures, and last week she finally learned how to bake chocolate torte without burning it to a crisp. However, she wasn't invincible. Everyone had their own Achilles heel and hers was Draco Malfoy.

She didn't understand exactly how it happened but suddenly he had infiltrated her entire life. He was at the Ministry, the same social events among friends, not to mention she nearly ran into him at Diagon Alley on her way to Flourish & Blotts. It was terribly unfair because she didn't fancy the idea of getting chummy with Malfoy. He represented everything she couldn't stand. A cocky, elitist bachelor, so fucking sure of his place in the wizarding world.

So why did it seem like everyone else had forgiven him and moved on?

Fuck if she knew.

Hermione read The Daily Prophet while drinking her tea. It was the weekend and her boss had banned her from coming into the office to work overtime. Typical. She checked the clock. The boys would be arriving any minute now.

There was a pop and then another one.

"Mione!"

"Where's the food?"

She snorted. "It's good to see you too, Ronald."

Ron just grinned and made his way to the kitchen. She stood up and gave Harry a hug before he sat down at the table.

"How's work?" asked Harry.

She rolled her eyes. "Don't even get me started. It's like a never-ending uphill battle working in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. I do love it though."

"Well at least it never gets boring."

Ron walked back in with a container of leftover chicken casserole. A fork was dangling from his mouth.

She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Didn't you eat this morning?"

He ripped off the lid off and dug in. "Pansy is killing me with this new vegetarian diet of hers. I haven't eaten meat in a week."

Harry stifled a laugh.

"Tragic."

Some things never changed. Then again, no one had expected Pansy and Ron would ever be a couple. That one threw her for a loop but other than the lack of protein, Ron was happy with Pansy. So she made an effort and became acquainted with the former Slytherin. Malfoy was an entirely different issue, which was unfortunate because Pansy and him were friends.

"Are we still planning to visit Hagrid during winter holidays?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, but can we change it to the 19th?"

"Sure. Why?" asked Hermione.

Ron gave Harry a look.

"Well Malfoy got tickets for Puddlemere United vs. Holyhead Harpies. He invited us to come," he paused."You're invited too."

There was a brief silence.

"How charitable of him," she said frostily.

"Oh don't be like that 'Mione..." Ron groaned with a mouth full of chicken.

She threw him a look that made him stare at the container of food like it was the most fascinating object in the room.

"I just don't understand how either of you can tolerate him. He's such a..."

"Prat."

"Git."

"Yes!" she exclaimed. "Exactly."

They both shrugged indifferently. After the war, Malfoy had formally apologized to Harry for being an insufferable arse and almost Death Eater. Harry decided he wanted to make peace with it. No more rivalries. Obviously, Ron didn't agree with Harry's choice but then Malfoy introduced him to Pansy. Unfortunately, now she had no more allies when it came to dealing with the ferret-face.

"Look," Harry said. "We haven't been to a game in ages. You should come."

She let out a huff. She wanted to decline out of spite but going to a quidditch match did actually sound fun.

"Fine," she grumbled. "But don't you dare leave me alone with him."

* * *

The stadium was overflowing with wizards and witches of all ages. She could hardly get around without someone pushing or brushing up against her body.

_These bloody stairs will be the death of me_

By the time she reached their box seats, she was completely out of breath.

"Well Granger," Malfoy drawled. "It's nice of you to finally grace us with your presence."

She plopped down next to Harry.

"You couldn't have reserved lower seats?" she asked, trying to catch her breath. "I think my nose is going to start bleeding thanks to the high altitude."

He raised an eyebrow in her direction. She suspected it was the sort of thing he practiced in the bathroom mirror. Sad, really.

"I'll have you know these are the best seats Galleons can buy."

She opened her mouth to retort but Pansy cut in.

"Don't mind him," she said. "Draco refuses to acknowledge that other people don't enjoy death-defying heights."

Malfoy muttered something under his breath before Pansy elbowed him in the ribs.

Pansy Parkinson had never been quite the same since the war. Her family like the Malfoy's had suffered at the hand of Voldemort. It was the only reason she could think of why Pansy would still put up with Malfoy and his antics. The two former Slytherins shared too much history.

Ron placed an arm around Pansy's shoulder and she leaned into him. It was cute but in a sickeningly sweet way.

A loud booming sound grabbed their attention. The referee signaled for both team captains to shake hands before mounting their brooms.

Then the match began.

Watching quidditch reminded her of Hogwarts. The cheering crowd in the stadium was filled with anticipation. Part of her wished Luna could be here with them along with the famous lion-topped hat, even though it wasn't a school match. The image itself made her nostalgic. She almost forgot that Malfoy was just a few feet away.

"Ha! Holyhead Harpies won by 275 points. Pay up, Malfoy." Ron said gleefully.

Pansy smacked her boyfriend on the arm but she was grinning, which meant she didn't really mean it.

Malfoy made a grand show of digging around for the money. He didn't look too put out though. "Here Weasley. Go buy yourself something nice. Merlin knows you couldn't afford to otherwise."

If he had said that five years ago, Ron would have ripped out his throat and then stomped on it repeatedly.

Instead the redhead pocketed the seven Galleons with a self-satisfied smirk of his own.

"You're so full of shit, you know that?"

Malfoy pretended to look wounded.

"That hurts, Weasley. It hurts to me right to the core. I'm not just rich and good-looking. I have feelings too. "

Hermione rolled her eyes so hard they might as well be in the back of her head.

"Alright who wants to go to the pub?" Harry interrupted.

There was a unanimous cheer and the group shuffled away from the crowd to somewhere safe they could apparate from.

* * *

Fovere Pub was one of the less than stellar drinking establishments in wizarding Britain. But it made up for that with its cozy atmosphere. The other patrons were also less likely to gawk at them there. The gossip mags practically jumped at any opportunity to write about the Golden Trio, particularly when it came to their love lives.

Harry and Malfoy headed straight to the bar to order a round of drinks. She followed the couple to a table in the back that was large enough for the five of them. She settled down in a chair and fell into an amicable conversation with Pansy about Neville's recent engagement to Hannah Abbott.

Somehow Malfoy ended up in the chair next to her. He set down a collection of glasses on top of their table. Hermione looked at Harry sternly who merely shrugged as if to say, _Well what can you do?_

"I can't believe Longbottom is getting married before any of us," said Malfoy. "This has to be a sign of the apocalypse."

Frankly, she's surprised he even knew the definition of apocalypse. He probably learned about it from Harry who had a thing for watching apocalyptic feature-length films.

"I think it's sweet. And I'm happy for them."

He took two consecutive shots of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey. She delicately sipped from a glass of Red Currant Rum.

"Of course _you_ think that Granger."

She could feel his body brush against her left side. He smelled like whisky, mint, and possibly some sort of expensive cologne. It was unnerving how he took up her personal space. She didn't like it, not one bit.

Hermione wanted to ask point-blank what that meant. In all likelihood, it was something offensive. But Harry quickly changed the topic. She wouldn't pick a fight with him. At least not yet.

After several hours, everyone at their table was sufficiently inebriated.

Ron and Pansy decided to call it a night. Pansy said it was because they have a brunch date tomorrow with one of her colleagues. Malfoy claimed it was because Ron was randy as fuck. Hermione wrinkled her nose in disgust.

Harry finished off his pint before standing up. "I need to use the restroom. I'll be right back."

_No! Don't go. Take me with you._

She forced the words back down her throat. Hermione might be slightly drunk but she wasn't stupid.

Malfoy started to chuckle as soon as Harry was out of sight.

"What's so funny?"

It took him a moment to respond.

"You."

She looked at him incredulously.

"_Me?_"

He nodded. "You're trying so hard to fight against it. The idea that I'm not as horrible as you think I am. You know, you're awfully prejudice for someone who actively works against said prejudices on the behalf of muggle-borns and magical creatures."

She was gobsmacked. "I...that's not...are you mental?"

He leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying the fact she had lost the ability to form a coherent sentence.

"Face it Granger," he said. "Things have changed. We're not in sixth year anymore. It's time to grow up."

She nearly threw her head back and laughed. "First of all, how dare you insinuate that I'm the one who needs to mature. I mean you're the one who was born with a silver spoon in your mouth and you flaunt it every chance you get. So what's your excuse?"

Malfoy's eyes flashed dangerously.

"Well at least I'm not an insufferable know-it-all who can't keep a boyfriend."

_Ouch_

Hermione abruptly stood up from her chair. "Oh for Merlin's sake, I have had it with you. C'mon let's take this outside then."

"What are you going to do?" he asked, mockingly. "Suffocate me with your beastly hair?"

"You're just afraid of getting beat up by girl," she shot back. "Again."

When Harry walked back to their table, the two of them were standing close and giving each other heated death glares.

"Um guys what happened?"

"He's a complete and utter arse_—"_

"She's an anal retentive nutter_—"_

Harry sighed. He shouldn't have left those two alone. He contemplated a plan of action while they bickered. Hermione unknowingly stepped back on a spill, slipped and fell backwards, dragging Malfoy down with her. They landed ungracefully in a tangle of limbs. Both of their faces turned an unflattering shade of crimson.

"Get off of me!" she yelled. "Harry, don't just stand there. Do something!"

Hermione attempted to push Malfoy away.

"I'm trying to...if you would just stop squirming...not the hair, Granger!"

Harry finally intervened and pulled Malfoy upright. Then he helped Hermione get back on her feet.

The other patrons watched the scene in mild amusement.

She grabbed her jacket and purse.

"I'm going home," she said to Harry, ignoring the blond.

* * *

Hermione made it back to her flat safely. But she was humiliated and in dire need of a sobering potion.

_I just want to take a long shower, read my new book, and eat copious amounts of chocolate._

After a relaxing shower, she put on her pajamas and tucked the novel, Pale Fire under her arm. There was a tapping on the window. Hermione walked over to open it. Harry's owl hooted delightedly as she gave him a few treats.

The letter was short.

_'Mione,_

_I'm sorry about what happened earlier. I hope you're okay. If it's any consolation, Malfoy's embarrassed as hell (even though he won't admit it)._

_If you need anything, let me know._

_Love,_

_Harry_

She wrote a quick reply and attached the note to Levi before sending him off. Yeah, it was going to take more than copious amounts of chocolate to regain her dignity.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Everything HP will always belong to J.K. Rowling. **

**And thanks Siren34 for the first review! I think you made an interesting point. So I used that as a line in this chapter. I'll probably keep doing this for every chapter. If anyone has something interesting to add let me know, and I'll definitely consider putting it in this fic. **

Despite popular belief, Hermione wasn't a morning person. In fact, she considered early mornings as her immortal enemy. And coffee was forever her savior. It was miracle she was able to get through Hogwarts without a single drop.

That was why Pansy had requested to meet with her for lunch instead of breakfast.

They sat outside at a table under the shade. Pansy had picked out the restaurant. A classy French café. Of course.

"So Draco told me that you accosted him after we left..."

Hermione blushed.

"I did no such thing!" she exclaimed. "It was an accident. And I'm still trying to repress the memory, thank you very much."

Pansy shook her head in amusement.

"The both of you protest way too much about being in each other's company. I can't help but feel like you're trying to hide something."

"Yes, because I'm secretly having an affair with him behind my imaginary boyfriend's back," Hermione deadpanned.

"Or maybe you fancy_—_"

"Oh Circe, not this again..." Hermione groaned. "I don't fancy him. I can barely tolerate him. I'll admit he's fit but he acts as if he's God's gift to women."

Pansy took a delicate bite of her pastry.

"Whatever you say, Hermione."

Thankfully, Pansy dropped the subject.

* * *

She was running late for her meeting with the Board of Governors. Late like the white rabbit.

"Oh Ms. Granger!" Her secretary attempted to flag her down.

"I can't talk now Patrice—"

She walked briskly into the conference room...only to find it empty.

"The meeting was canceled..." Patrice said, trailing in after her.

"By whom?"

"Mr. Malfoy. He's waiting for you in your office."

Hermione stared at the secretary in horror.

"He's _what?_"

"I'm sorry Ms. Granger. He was very insistent."

She took a deep breath. "It's okay. Please don't let it happen again."

When she stepped inside her office, Malfoy was lounging in her chair behind the desk.

"Give me one good reason not to kick your pale arse out of here."

"Hello to you too, Granger."

"Cut it out. What are you doing here? Why did you cancel my meeting?" she asked. "I'm supposed to present my campaign on how we can finally ban house-elves enslavement."

Malfoy yawned. "Merlin do you intend to bore people to death?"

Hermione gripped her wand.

"You arrogant berk," she said. "If we weren't at the Ministry, I would hex you."

Malfoy stood up and put his hands on the desk. "They were going to turn you down. I figured I'd save you from the humiliation."

The tension in her body immediately went slack.

"W-why?" she asked.

"You've been bombarding them for two years. They only agreed to that meeting to try to appease you. Even with Shacklebolt on your side, there's no way the Board of Governors are going to approve your campaign. My advice: start over in a different department, maybe Magical Law Enforcement."

The thing that disturbed her the most was that he said all of it without a trace of cruelty. She didn't know whether she should feel grateful or annoyed or both. After all, Malfoy had never been her ally. Why would he start now?

"How did you find out?"

"Pansy mentioned you were over stressed about a particular project involving house-elves. Then two days ago at the Carlton Gala, I ran into Keaton Bateman who's on the board. He couldn't keep his drunk mouth shut. Trust me, it was not a pretty sight."

Trust him? Now that was a ridiculous notion to entertain. He was a _Malfoy_. The French origin of his surname literally translated to bad faith. She knew. She had done the research.

"So that's it?" she asked. "I just give up everything I've worked for and let those archaic numbskulls win?"

"That's politics for you, Granger."

She took a few steps toward him. "What do you want from me?"

Malfoy smirked. "Can't I do something out of the goodness of my heart?"

She snorted. "No, I don't think your perfect aristocratic bloodline would allow it."

Hermione had never been close to Malfoy, but she knew enough about his character and his family history. Malfoys did not do favors for free, even when they weren't asked for in the first place.

"Well I thought now that you're not busy with your campaign any longer, you can help me with a project of my own."

Ah. Of course.

"Let me guess, it's probably something illegal. Have you joined another cult perhaps? Sacrificed any muggles lately?" Her mouth was practically running at warp speed.

He narrowed his eyes at her. Clearly, she had hit a sore spot.

"Let's get one thing clear," he growled. "I left the Dark Arts years ago. I gave up the Manor to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. If you don't believe me, ask Shacklebolt. So don't you dare presume to know everything."

Malfoy stepped closer, looking down at her petite frame. She had the overwhelming urge to slap him like in third year.

There was a knock on the door. Patrice poked her head into the office.

"Oh! I'm sorry Ms. Granger. I didn't mean to interrupt," she said, blushing.

"Oh, don't worry. We just finished taking care of business," Malfoy replied lasciviously.

Patrice turned an even darker shade of crimson.

Before she could outright deny what Malfoy was implying, he grabbed his cloak and walked out of the office.

_List of things to do:_

_Hire a more competent secretary_

_Plan the murder of Draco Lucius Malfoy_

* * *

Nobody ever told Hermione that growing up would be so difficult. After all, she was only twenty-one years old. When she was seventeen, she helped her best friend destroy a malevolent wannabe tyrant. Then she chose to go back to Hogwarts to finish her education. She had worked at the Ministry for two years. And now she was having an existential crisis in the middle of supper with her parents.

Her mother and father couldn't help but notice her abnormal behavior.

"I'm okay, really," she insisted.

Her parents exchanged skeptical looks but didn't push her to talk about it.

Hermione continued to stab at her food with her fork.

_I thought I had a chance of doing some good in the world. I thought I could make a real difference. And yet, here I am. I'm right back where I started._

* * *

Hermione took the long way back to her flat. Instead of apparating, she leisurely walked for several kilometers before holding out her wand hand to summon the Knight Bus.

As she walked into her bedroom, she caught sight of a menacing looking bird outside her window. She apprehensively allowed him to come in. For some reason, it felt like he was judging her. Hermione opened the letter.

_Granger,_

_Meet me at Fovere Pub tomorrow at 9 p.m._

_Don't be late._

It was left unsigned but she knew exactly who wrote it. Who else would own a pretentious, regal-like eagle?

The bird didn't even wait for a written response. He gave her a rather haughty look before flying off.

_Fine. No treats for you._

"Well, there's no way in hell I'm going to see him." She said as if she needed to convince herself.

* * *

She sat in the pub, clutching her drink with a grip so tight it could kill a man. Hermione knew she shouldn't be here. Maybe she still had time to make a quick getaway. Then she saw a flash of platinum blond hair. Well she couldn't possibly escape now.

"Good. You're not late," he said.

She looked at her watch.

"But you are." She knew it made her sound bossy as hell.

He smirked as if it came naturally to him. "I enjoy making an entrance."

Hermione brushed her frizzy hair out of her eyes. "Do you mind getting to the point? I don't want people to think that I'd voluntary spend my Sunday night here with _you._"

There was an amused twinkle in his eyes. Funny, she thought Dumbledore was the only one capable of doing that bit.

"Don't fret, Granger," he said. "I won't sully your goody two-shoes reputation."

She waved a hand impatiently for him to continue.

"Right. As you know, my mother passed away half a year ago. Her last dying wish was that I restore honor to the family name_—"_

"How very noble of you," she interrupted, rather rudely.

Malfoy pointedly ignored her comment.

_"—_which is why I want to hire you to create a campaign. Find a suitable charitable foundation to support, plan the event of the year, and convince the Wizarding world to accept the Malfoys back in its good graces."

Hermione laughed so hard that tears were streaming down her face.

_It's official. Draco Malfoy has fucking lost his mind._

"It's really not that funny," he said, slightly annoyed.

She wholeheartedly disagreed.

After she calmed down, Hermione shook her head.

"Absolutely not. Why would I help you after everything your family has put Harry, Ron, and I through?"

Malfoy clenched his jaw. "Ron and Harry have both forgiven me. My mother saved Harry's life_—"_

"She only saved him after he told her that you're scrawny arse was still alive!" she said, raising her voice.

The other patrons briefly looked over at their table before going to back to their drinks.

"_I'm sorry_. Merlin it was years ago and everyone suffered_—"_

"You're _sorry?_" she scoffed. "Tell that to the hundreds of other _mudbloods_ who were tortured or killed. Because you still don't get it, do you? You have no idea what it's like to be a minority. At best, you'll be another champagne socialist. You entitled prick!"

Hermione was vaguely aware that she was breathing hard and everyone_—_including the barman_—_was staring at her.

This had been the second time she publicly embarrassed herself in Malfoy's presence.

May Godric, help her soul.

She stood up to leave but he held out his hand to stop her.

"You don't think I know that I fucked up, Granger?" he asked quietly. "I was a sorry excuse of a wizard. A complete coward, really. But at least now I'm making an effort to move forward. You're the one who's still stuck in the past."

Then he slammed down a couple of Galleons on the table and left the pub without another word.

She sat there for a moment trying to process what just happened. He was wrong. She didn't care if he donated thousands of Galleons to the Orphan relief fund. Malfoy would never truly understand what it had been like for her during the war. To be tortured in his manor by Bellatrix. What she had sacrificed to protect her parents. How she wished she hadn't been born at all. And at the same time, want to destroy Voldemort herself for brain washing a horde of Pure-blood fanatics to do his bidding.

She closed her eyes before taking a deep breath. She was entirely too exhausted to deal with Malfoy anymore.

"Hermione?"

Her brown eyes snapped open to see a handsome man standing in front of her.

"Elijah?"

He grinned. "I knew it was you. Are you here with someone?"

Elijah Cresswell was her coworker in the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. His father had been the Head of the Goblin Liaison Office before he was murdered presumably by Death Eaters.

"Ah, I was but they left a minute ago."

"Well how 'bout I buy you a drink?"

Hermione felt her lips form a genuine smile.

"That would be lovely."

* * *

When she arrived back at her flat, there was no menacing bird waiting by her window. There was however a tawny owl she didn't recognize. She gave the owl a few treats before opening the envelope. It was a wedding invitation.

_HANNAH ABBOTT & NEVILLE LONGBOTTOM_

_REQUEST THE PLEASURE OF YOUR COMPANY AT THEIR WEDDING_

_PLEASE JOIN THEM FOR FOOD, LAUGHTER, AND DANCING. _

_SATURDAY, THE SEVENTH OF MAY_

_TWO THOUSAND AND ONE_

_AT FIVE O' CLOCK IN THE EVENING_

_THE CEREMONY WILL BE HELD OUTSIDE THE LONGBOTTOM'S ESTATE_

Fantastic. Now she needed to find a date.


End file.
